Little Bucklin
by MissDoctorDonna
Summary: This is just a one off story I came up with involving a child Buck Wilmington and how he may have come under the care of a gambler with a gold heart to match his tooth and a Texan with a heart as big as his home state. You may want to have some tissues handy... I'm just saying. No Slash.


**I don't own any of the Magnificent Seven characters; I just like to take them out of their boxes and playing with them. All towns, institutions and characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. One-off story that has no bearing on any of my other stuff, it's just drivel that trickled from my brain to the keyboard.**

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you're just too big to have in the house anymore," said Ms Hazel, trying to make her face stern despite how her heart was breaking. The boy standing in front of her had been the only child of one of her best girls, but he was too big for the nursery and was starting to attract unsavoury attention from some of her clients during his cleaning duties. She wasn't in a position to do much for the boy, but she could at least prevent him from that sort of abuse under her roof. There were no orphanages nearby and none of the local families would take in the bastard child of a soiled dove for fear of bad blood. Much as she didn't want to turn the child out, she saw no other options and just hoped that his life would be luckier away from the cathouse. Looking at his tear-filled cobalt eyes, she offered, "You're a fine, big, strong boy now, Bucky. I'm sure you can get work and board somewhere in town. Maybe the livery needs a new stable boy? You like horses, don't you?"

Gulping back his tears, knowing that there was no use in arguing, Buck nodded and lowered his eyes to the floor and his grubby, bare feet . He and his mother hadn't been in Stevensville long, but he'd hoped that he'd shown Ms Hazel that he would be useful to have around even after his Ma had gone. He'd cleaned all the common areas, made sure that any horses temporarily tied to the back railings had water, helped Cookie in the kitchen, helped the ladies brush their hair if he was asked and run any messages needed. Obviously he hadn't been useful enough though, he thought miserably, drawing the sleeve of his too small shirt over his moist eyes and hitching up his too short pants. Even though he'd been careful not to eat too much despite being hungry all the time, he'd still shot up another inch. All the ladies said he was going to be a tall, good-looking man. Right now, that didn't help him much.

"I've put your Ma's things in this bag. Ain't much to show for a life, but what's left is yours now," continued Ms Hazel, eager to have this done with so she could go back to her business. Emotions weren't something she was very good at showing, having hardened herself a long time ago to the injustices in life. So the almost overwhelming sensation of guilt, both at her rejection of the boy and at the way she and the others had taken most his mother's worldly goods was an unwelcome feeling. Justifying the theft by counting the cost of the child's food and board these last few weeks, along with the fact that the dead woman's clothing was of no use to her son, Hazel tried to quell the guilt. "Your things are in there too and Cookie put some food in there for you too. Just enough to tide you over, mind. We don't have much to spare."

Nodding again, Buck reached a shaking hand out to take the woefully small sugar sack of things that constituted both his and his Ma's whole life.

"Good. That's good. Better that you're out of this life anyway, Bucky. It's no life for a growing boy. You try for the livery and then when you're older, maybe you can get a job on one of the ranches. Out in the fresh air and sunshine, much more wholesome for you and I'm sure that's what your mother would have wanted," encouraged the house madam, weaving a fantasy about how much better the orphaned boy's life would be now that he'd been kicked out of the only home he knew. It was better than facing the reality that if the child even survived the winter, he'd more than likely die of starvation or disease before he hit his teens, or fall into a life of crime if he did survive what would no doubt be a harsh and violent childhood. Having successfully deluded herself into believing that she was doing the right thing, Hazel patted the boy's skinny shoulder and gave him a less than subtle nudge towards the back door. "Off you go then."

Looking back over his shoulder through water logged eyes, Buck saw Miss Hallie and Miss Franny crying and waving at him from the front parlour, so he gave them a brave little wave back. Making his way through the kitchen, he saw Cookie attacking some dough and muttering about the uncharitable natures of some people and how they'd get their comeuppance on judgment day.

"Bye, Cookie," whispered Buck, his lower lip quivering. The large black woman had been very good to both him and his mother and he would miss her cheerful face and the way she would save him a little extra. Many had been the night that Buck had comfortably cuddled in Cookies arms as she sat in her rocker beside the stove in the kitchen, listening to her stories as they tried to ignore the sounds of the business going on around them.

Stopping her attack on the defenceless dough and taking a deep breath, Cookie turned to the bereft mite in front of her and nearly fell to her knees to clutch him to her ample bosom. But Hazel was the boss lady and orders had been given that the house couldn't have a small orphan boy hanging around, so she resisted the impulse and instead pasted a smile on her face and called with false cheer, "God bless ya, chile. You take care o' yo'self n' I might see ya at tha General Store sometime."

Aware now that he had no protectors in the house, Buck nodded sadly and walked with slumped shoulders from the house he'd called home with his Ma for the last time. Unknown to him, he left a houseful of women in various states of bitterness, grief, helplessness and despair. All would have kept him if they could, but it just wasn't possible. Times were hard enough in a small town, without the added burden of a small motherless boy.

Coming into the street, Buck looked around furtively. He wasn't a popular child, despite his best efforts to be friendly and accommodating to folk. Most of the good people in the town looked down on him, knowing his Ma had been a working girl and that his Pa was unknown as a result. The children of the town felt their parents' scorn justified their attempts to bully the boy and therefore made his life a living hell whenever they saw him. Spying the small group of boys gathered outside the Dry Goods store, Buck ran quickly across the street and around to the back of the houses there. Not pausing for breath, he continued his journey unseen and unhindered until he'd reached the back of the livery.

Pausing to pat the patient, old grey mare who was often left in the corral as she was too old to work now, he debated on whether to approach the bad-tempered owner of the livery now or in the morning. Seeing that Cookie had given him food, he decided to wait until the next day. He felt too sad to pretend to be happy and capable of being useful to the mean man who ran the livery. There were no other options for work in Stevensville for a boy like him though, so Buck figured he'd just have to get used to being treated badly if he wanted to earn his keep. He'd seen Pete, the liveryman, beating on stubborn horses, kicking at stray dogs and cursing his stable boys as he cuffed them around the ears with a heavy, calloused hand. One of the boys had had to be taken to see ole Doc Thompson 'cos Pete hit him too hard, but nothing came of it 'cos Pete told everyone that one of the horses had kicked Rafe. Not long after that, Rafe wasn't seen around the stable anymore. Pete told folk that the boy had run away and no-one cared enough about the little Mexican orphan to query it.

After a quick look around for any people in the livery, Buck climbed quickly up into the hayloft and made his way to the back corner where he'd made himself a nest long ago. Some days when he'd not been welcome in the house, he stayed up here where he was hidden from the disapproving glares of the proper folk. Wearily, he nestled down under his scrap of horse blanket that he'd retrieved from the junk pile out back and pulled his sack of worldly possessions into his lap.

As soon as his mother had died, Buck had noticed all her things had been cleared from the room she'd been using and another girl moved in. The silver framed photo of his Ma in her best outfit was gone from the dresser, as was the slightly tarnished silver-backed hair brush and hand mirror. Her few pieces of jewellery was gone along with her pretty clothes, all taken by the other working girls or Ms Hazel, aside from the one simple dress they'd buried her in. He'd managed to find one of her silver hair combs that had fallen down behind the dresser and he kept that in his pocket for fear that someone would take that away too.

Peering into the sack, Buck saw that it held his Ma's bible and the photo she kept of him in an old folding leather travel frame. He's figured they'd be in there, since no-one else in the house would have wanted those things. His stuff was a change of clothes that were just as ill-fitted as the ones he wore, a frameless photo of his Ma and him taken at the same time as the one of her in her fancy dress, and a lock of his Ma's raven black hair tied with a piece of her blue ribbon that Ms Hallie had given him after the burial. Carefully taking the comb from his pocket, Buck placed a soft kiss on it before adding it to the sack. Taking the bible out, he was grateful to see that his Ma's photo had been taken out of the silver frame and placed inside the bible. Taking his frameless photo, he smoothed out the couple of bends and added it to the bible too, so it wouldn't get any more crinkled and bent. Running a grimy finger gently over the lock of raven black hair, he remember the day they'd put his Ma into the ground.

Weren't many people there at the burial, just him, Cookie, Ms Hallie, Ms Franny, Ms Hazel and the undertaker. The good and pious Reverend wouldn't come, saying that Katie Wilmington had lived a sinful life and couldn't be buried with the faithful. So his beautiful, loving Ma, who'd never hurt a person in her whole life, had been laid to rest in the un-consecrated earth outside the churchyard fence, alongside murderers, thieves and rapists. All there was to mark where his Ma lay in eternal rest was a cheap wooden cross with WILMINGTON on it. Tears started to fall down Buck's thin cheeks as he remembered the look of scorn on the Reverend's face as he'd watched them from the door of his church. Ms Hallie, Ms Hazel and Cookie had answered the look with their shoulders back and their heads held high, but the undertaker had given the small boy clinging to the black woman's hand a look filled with pity.

Buck flung himself down on the hay, hugging his sack of possessions and curled into the smallest ball he could, before bursting into the silent sobbing that he'd learned from an early age was the only acceptable way to release pain. His mind knew she couldn't come back, but all he wanted with the entirety of his little heart and soul was his Ma and to be held in her soft, warm arms where he was safe and loved. It just wasn't fair.

A week later, on the other side of Stevensville, Vin and Ezra were just finishing up the paperwork after handing over the rank smelling Emeril Bogsden. The Sheriff hadn't looked too pleased to have the unwashed, disgraceful example of humanity in his clean jail, but the boys were tired and well pleased to be rid of the burden of watching the smelly, vociferous man. Bogsden had accosted one of the finer ladies of Stevensville, taking first her virtue and then her life, so the town was looking forward to stretching his filth encrusted neck in full view of all and sundry. For himself, the Sheriff would have preferred that the bounty hunter and his fancy dressed friend had brought the man back on the dead side of the 'Dead or Alive' specified on his wanted poster. He surely couldn't have smelled any worse and at least he'd have been the undertaker's problem

"So, my friend, shall we repair to one of the saloons, or find an eatery, or a bathhouse?"

Vin sent a sly half smile towards his travelling companion as the fancily dresses southerner stood slapping at the dust on his scarlet sleeves and drawled suggestively, "Or a cathouse?"

Quirking his eyebrow, Ezra struggled to contain his astonishment at the reticent tracker's suggestion. Vin Tanner blushed to the tips of his toes if a woman even cut eyes at him. Well, apart from Charlotte Richards, who'd been a terrible mistake from start to finish. 'Hussy of a woman,' thought the Southerner disapprovingly, 'toying with the affections of two good men'. Ezra was glad that Vin had seen the error of his ways sooner rather than later with that manipulative chit of a woman.

"I confess to being somewhat nonplussed by your suggestion, Mr Tanner, as I wouldn't have placed you as the sort to frequent such houses," replied Ezra, pulling his jacket into place and flicking his hands over the front of it in a futile attempt to dislodge the trail dust. "Has our Mr Larabee finally corrupted you?"

Eyeing the sure signs of his friend's discomfort, Vin's sly smile widened into a playful lop-sided grin. Punching the red clad shoulder next to him, Vin chortled and said, "No, Ez, he ain't done nothing ta me. Ya know I ain't the sort ta go fer… whatchcallit? Cashoooal intermessies. Prefer ta scratch ma own itches 'less'n there's soft feelings involved. Just wanted ta see the look on yer face at the thought."

Shaking his head at being fooled by the tracker again, as well as at the younger man's brave attempt at new vocabulary, Ezra huffed and said fondly, "Fine. You got me. Now, since neither of us are partakers of 'casual intimacies', what are we going to do first?"

"Horses first, then bath, room, food, drink, cards, 'nother drink 'n sleep, I reckon," announced Vin decisively, as he untied Peso from the hitching post in front of the jail and hoisted himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Days in the saddle and sleeping on hard ground just did nothing for his fractious back these days. "Oh 'n one o' us oughta send a telegram back to ole black britches ta make sure he don't get his feathers ruffled."

Following along after mounting Chaucer, Ezra had heard the grunt and seen the pain that flitted across Vin's face. Turning towards the livery, he scanned his memory to see if the small jar of unguent that Shoushan had supplied him with for the ache in his unstable shoulder was still in his saddle bag. He would have to offer it to his friend after they'd bathed; perhaps even rub it in for him to make sure the muscles relaxed. Snorting, he remembered the severe look their leader had given him before leaving, then warning him to take care of Vin and himself.

Eager for a distraction, Vin grunted, "What?"

"Just remembering Mr Larabee's dire warning to watch out for your well-being. I believe his mother hen tendencies were already well to the fore prior to our leaving the town limits," replied Ezra, dismounting at the front of the livery.

"Ah, ya know he worries jist as much on yer fancy hide," Vin demurred bashfully, a warm glow sparking inside at the reminder of the care taken of him by these men he considered brothers. "Dunno why he thinks we can't take care o' ourselves. Been doin' it mah whole life 'n I's still here."

"True, true. I too have been self-sufficient practically since infancy, yet Messrs Larabee, Jackson and Sanchez all believe me to be of the same proficiency as young Mr Dunne. It's quite unsettling, really," answered Ezra, dismounting quickly and moving to stand discreetly within catching distance behind the tracker as the young man dismounted stiffly. Giving the younger man's shoulder a quick, comforting rub, he turned to where the livery owner was approaching them.

"Just the two horses, is it? Overnight or staying for the hangin' on Friday?"

Eyebrow hitching in disgust at both the amount of glee in the liveryman's voice at the thought of a hanging and the display of gray-green, broken teeth given by the man's grin, Ezra said smoothly, "Just the two horses and just for the one night."

"Alright iffun they share a stall? Only the town's fillin' up 'cos of the folk comin' to watch that bastard swing," asked the liveryman, reaching to take Chaucer's reins.

Keeping his horse's reins firmly within his grip, Ezra replied, "One stall is perfectly fine, but we can see to our own horses as they tend to be somewhat particular in their needs."

"Right, right. No problems with that at all. Iffun ya need anything, I got a boy round here somewhere who'll getcha what ya need. Just holler for 'im and he'll crawl outta wherever he's hidin'," agreed the liveryman affably, leading the way to a back stall that had been recently mucked out. "Ya got a room? Might have some trouble with that as last I heard the hotel was full up n' the boarding house was full up n' even the spare rooms that old Mrs Finchley sometimes lets out are full up."

Dismayed at this news, Ezra rounded on the man to demand, "Really? What of the saloons? Do they let rooms?"

Scratching his thumbnail over the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, the liveryman answered, "Yeah, they usually got rooms but last I heard, they're all…"

Vin and Ezra cut him off to moan dolefully, "Full up."

"Yup. For an extra fee ya can hunker down up in my hayloft tonight, but no smoking up there, mind," offered the man, seeing a chance for some extra money and wondering how many others he could squeeze up there.

"What do you think, Vin? Should we get supplies and ride on, or take this gentleman up on his offer of the hayloft?"

Chewing his lip in indecision, Vin turned to Ezra and the sharp spasm in his back made the decision for him. "Can't take no more time in the saddle jist now, Ez. Need ta soak in a tub, eat me a steak 'n some spuds wi' a knife 'n fork, have a few whiskeys 'n then sleep somewhere warm tonight."

"We got a real nice bathhouse, just a few places down. Only a nickel a tub 'n the water's fresh for every tub. Run by a couple of Chinee but they're good sorts who keep a real clean place. They do laundry too, so iffun ya got any stuff to be washed, take it with ya. Iffun ya looking for a place to eat, then you can't do no better than Flo's Place. It's right by the original Stevensville Saloon, which is the least rowdy and most high tone place in town iffun ya want a quiet night. Ain't no dancing girls there and they don't water down their whiskey too bad," prattled the liveryman, proud of his little town and happy to send folk to his fellow businessmen, eager to keep the money in town rather than see it ride off down the trail.

"Well, Vin, it seems our course is set for the night. We shall most definitely take you up on your offer of the hayloft, good sir, and thank you for you recommendations," said Ezra, gently pushing Vin and therefore Peso ahead of him. Peso and Chaucer would condescend to share a stall with each other as they were generally friendly, but the ornery blaze-faced black gelding had to enter first or there'd be hell to pay. The only horse Peso allowed into his space first was Chris' big black gelding, Diablo. So long as he was brushed down well, had his feed bin filled with good quality feed and oats, his water bucket was filled with fresh water and his man gave him what he considered his due in the form of lavish praise along with apples and peppermints, then Chaucer really didn't care who went in first. Neither of the horses would share with strange horses, but they would share with any of their herd. Diablo really didn't care to share with anyone, but liked Peso and tolerated Chaucer, although the latter delighted in tormenting the big black on occasion which led to fights.

Ezra quickly removed the saddles and tack from both horses, before tending to his horse's grooming and leaving Vin to groom the cantankerous Peso. Ezra would have to bribe the cranky horse with peppermints if he wanted to groom the blaze-faced black without being snapped at, pushed into a wall or trod on. Once Chaucer was groomed to his satisfaction, Ezra fetched enough water and feed for both horses to save Vin from any extra steps. When he returned, he found the young tracker leaning his cheek wearily on Peso's withers, with his arm flung over the horse's back. For his part, Peso stood perfectly still as though sensing that his man wasn't at his best and now was not the time for his usual games.

"There we are, Vin. That should hold them until morning. Now, shall we gather what we need for our ablutions and find the bathhouse?"

Straightening with great effort, Vin shuffled over to where Ezra had put his saddlebags and bent stiffly to pick them up. A muffled cry of pain accompanied the stabbing muscle spasm that gripped him, but it was enough to bring his friend to his side. Leaning into Ezra gratefully, as the slightly older man held him with an arm around his chest, Vin sighed as one of Ezra's strong hands found its way under his buckskin coat and firmly rubbed over his shirt to try and ease the knot. Breath hiccoughing as he tried to ride out the pain, Vin held tight to the strong forearm bracing his chest and tried not to throw up or cry from the pain.

Easing Vin down to his knees as the man went limp with relief as the knotted muscles let go, Ezra knelt beside his friend letting Vin rest his head on his broad red-clad shoulder as the tracker tried to get his breath back. Continuing to lightly rub his hand over Vin's back, Ezra sympathised with the young tracker's heaving gasps that sounded suspiciously like sobs. Lord knew when his shoulder went out that it was all he could do to maintain his decorum. Rolling his eyes as he smelled his horse's breath, he looked up to find that Peso and Chaucer had managed to shuffle around to face their men and were now lipping at each one's hair in concern.

"I's fine, ya big baby, let me be," grumbled Vin, letting go of Ezra's arm with one cramped hand to push at Peso's muzzle. Shifting his weight carefully, Vin let Ezra help him back to his feet before shuffling over to lean against the back of the stall. Peso watched for a while, then turned back to his feed box, snapping yellowed teeth at Chaucer when he found that the audacious chestnut gelding had already turned and started nibbling on HIS oats. Chaucer backed up, wide eyed with astonishment at the black's bad manners, before returning to the left overs in his own feed box huffily.

Vin watched listlessly as Ezra rummaged through the tracker's saddlebags and took out his clean shirt and drawers. These were then carefully folded and placed in the gambler's saddlebags, which were flung over the same shoulder he'd almost cried on minutes before. Damn back would be the death of him one day, either 'cos he fell off his horse in the middle of a pursuit or he died of embarrassment when he hit his tolerance levels and burst out blubbing on whichever of his brothers caught him. Although, truthfully, he didn't think any of them would make much of it, except maybe JD who'd panic a bit or be awkward at having one of his heroes showing weakness. They all understood his pain and made any allowances they could without him noting.

Vin's mouth twisted up in the corner a little as he pictured each one's reaction. Chris would be gruff and silent, his hold firm but gentle whilst wishing he could take the pain for his brother. Nathan would be practical and stretch him out on a bed or bedroll to rub stinky liniment into his back with large, strong, practiced hands, talking about past cases whilst allowing him to cry into the pillow without censure. Josiah would engulf him in one of his bear hugs, one huge hand cradling his brother's shaggy head to a broad chest, as he rumbled about God not giving him more than he could handle or some such. JD would panic, his eyes going wide before he'd start to babble about getting one of the others. Vin chuckled a bit at this mental image, drawing a slightly bemused glance from his southern brother.

As to Ezra, well old Ez had shown himself to be surprisingly tender in his dealings with his fractious back, thought the Texan fondly. Vin had been surprised at how well he'd been getting on with the Southerner in the last couple of months. Sure, they'd had their disagreements, most notably over that whole business with Chanu and Claire Moseley and then the kerfuffle over his poem. But the gambler had surprised him; by showing he was a man with enough strength of character to admit his failings. Ez had admitted to being in the wrong about Chanu and confessed he had had few dealings with the 'aboriginal peoples of this land' and had requested that Vin speak on his experiences with them. Since then, they'd had many a lengthy discussion by the fishing hole, or out on their horses, and Ezra had soaked up the knowledge. They'd even been going out to visit with Chanu and Kojay, playing with the children and taking out supplies. Ezra had been adopted by all and was now as welcome as Vin, Nathan and Josiah.

As to the shameful way Ezra had mocked him over his poem… Well, once he'd sobered up, Ezra was downright mortified by his behaviour and had apologised profusely. The whole business of Vin's being unable to read had come out, along with Mary's offer to help him learn, and Ezra had been nothing but supportive since. His reading was coming along real well, now that he had both of them teaching him. Mary had proven to be a bit on the fussy side as a teacher, making him feel a little bit like a child, so he'd been visiting her less and less. But Ezra was a natural and made sure that the material was about something the tracker would be interested in. Yup, and Ez often had a slice of Mrs Potter's pie or some hard candy on hand to reward Vin on a lesson well learnt. Vin looked forward to their lessons and found himself enjoying the world opened to him by his new found skills, not to mention the building sense of confidence in his intelligence that came with the pride he saw on Ezra's face when the Southerner praised him.

There had been times when Vin had been unable to hide his bad back from the keenly observant gambler and it was at those times that he'd seen a glimpse of Ezra that wasn't seen by many. The man behind the peacock flash had shown himself to be very gentle and caring, if somewhat tentative in offering his nurturing. He'd organised hot tubs, offered his feather topped bed, bought Chinese remedies that smelled a lot better than Nathan's horse liniment and skunk teas, and even bought him a warm, thick, soft flannel undershirt that felt like a bit of heaven. Those hands of his were magic too, giving what Ezra called massages when he rubbed in the Chinese ointment that relaxed and heated Vin's back muscles into total submission. The Texan was really hoping that Ez had brought that little pot of relief with him and would offer to rub it into his back for him before he got dressed.

"Come, Vin, two tubs of clean hot water await us," urged the Southerner, gently guiding his hurting friend out of the stall, his hand hovering at Vin's elbow but not quite touching. Past experience had taught him that Vin didn't like to be manhandled in public. The Texan was a proud and independent spirit who hated to feel or look weak to others. Since he could relate to that, as he was loathe to allow anyone to witness his moments of infirmity also, Ezra was always careful to respect Vin's boundaries.

Their exit was watched by two cobalt eyes peering from under the hay in the loft. Buck had found that if he burrowed into the hay and lay there very still, then he could spy on those in the livery without reprisal. Pete had taken him on, but seemed to delight in slyly pinching him whenever he could or trying to tickle him in inappropriate places. It wasn't done in a way that made Buck think it was a game either. Pete got the same flushed look on his face that the men that used to come to the house got and it made Buck uncomfortable. So he hid from Pete whenever he could, coming out only when he was called and even then he sometimes ignored Pete's call if the man was alone in the livery. When he did that, the next time Pete found him he'd be beaten and called names. Buck was used to that sort of treatment, but he hated it when Pete started calling his Ma names too.

The two men who'd just been here had caught his attention. He thought they might be brothers, even if they didn't look or talk alike. But then Josh and Trevor from the house before last hadn't looked alike either and they were brothers. Buck wished he had a brother who cared about him as much as the fancy dressed man had cared about the wild man. Wiping his eyes, being careful of his latest bruises, Buck sucked in a large breath and got to his feet. His ribs still hurt something fierce from where he'd fallen as he backed away from Pete and caught his side on a box. Listening hard, he peered around the livery once more to be sure that Pete wasn't there and then started to climb down the ladder. Maybe if he looked through the men's bags, he might find out where they lived. Then if he could save some money, he might be able to go there. A town with people like that was sure to be nicer than Stevensville with its mean people.

Ezra smacked his palm to his forehead as he remembered that Vin had borrowed his travel soap on their last trip and hoped the container was still in the other man's saddlebags. Sitting the tracker on a bench in front of the shop they were passing, Ezra told him, "I'll be right back. Forgot the soap."

Peering up at the gambler through pained eyes, Vin pleaded, "Ez, can't we jist use the soap the bathhouse have ta hand?"

Shuddering theatrically at the thought of what could be found lodged in the communal bars of lye soap provided by most bath houses, Ezra just shot Vin a horrified look which caused his friend to chuckle despite his pain. Receiving a one handed shooing motion of permission, Ezra hurried back to the livery. Stopping in front of their stall, he stood and grinned at the sight in front of him.

Buck had eased past the big horses without any problems despite their suspicious snuffling and a half-hearted attempt by the big black at biting him, but after he'd had a quick look through the men's stuff and found nothing to point out where they were from, he found that the horses wouldn't let him back out. The black one kept baring his big, yellow teeth and had his ears pinned back menacingly, whilst the brown one kept nudging him in the chest and bouncing him against the wall, which really hurt his ribs and back! No matter which way he tried to dodge, one or the other of the horses was there, pushing and shoving and nipping him. Finally, after a particularly painful bounce against the wall, Buck started sobbing and pleading, "Please, horse, please. I didn't take nothin'. I'm not bad. Please let me out. Don't hurt me no more. P-please…"

The grin quickly fell from the gambler's face when he heard the voice and saw the boy more clearly. What he'd taken for a ten or twelve year old thief was actually only a small boy. Judging from his voice, he'd say the lad was only around seven or eight, although he was large for his age. Calling out to both horses, he pushed his way over to where the child was cowering against the back of the stall. Since Chaucer was now more than ready for a game, the gambler quickly rummaged through the saddlebags until he found the soap which he pocketed, then he plucked the boy up and carried him out of the stall.

Turning at the playful whicker from his horse and the final stomp from Vin's, Ezra ordered sternly, "Remain, Chaucer! Do not undo this door and try to find me, you hear? Remain!"

Buck panicked slightly at being picked up, but somehow he knew that the man wasn't going to hurt him. The strong arms around him felt nice so he wound his skinny arms and legs around the man's neck and waist, clinging to the man and feeling safe for the first time in a long time. Despite the smell of trail dust and sweat, the man smelled better than most as Buck burrowed his face into the stranger's neck, mumbling, "Didn't take nothing, mister. Was just trying to find out where ya'll come from. 'm sorry."

"There now, chile. We'll sort this all out in a bit, but first I have to attend to my friend," soothed Ezra, surprised at the way the child was clinging to him. He had assumed that this was the stable boy the liveryman had referred to, but now he wasn't so sure, given the boy's age. Still, it wasn't unheard of in this rough land for people to take in orphans this young as servants. Look at his scruffy, young friend, who had suffered all sorts of deprivation as a child. Ezra himself, with one living parent, had known the hardship of being expected by relatives and carers to labour before his body had been ready for such heavy duties.

"Who's ya new friend, Ez," drawled Vin lazily from his sprawled position on the bench as they approached.

"I have yet to ascertain that, Vin, but there'll be plenty of time for introduction at the bathhouse," declared the southerner, shifting Buck's meagre weight to one hip to free an arm to use assisting Vin to his feet. Walking at a slow pace to match Vin's pained shuffle, Ezra continued, "I found the poor lad at the back of our stall. Peso and Chaucer had him penned."

"What was he doin' in our stall?"

Frowning at the suspicious tone in his friend's voice, he replied, "Well, I'm not sure, but he didn't have anything of ours on him when I arrived. I'm almost certain that he's the stable boy that the avaricious liveryman mentioned, so perhaps he was checking on the horses to see if anything was required."

Letting go of one handful of the stranger's colourful jacket to rub a filthy hand over his tear-stained, bruised face cautiously, Buck sniffed and whispered loudly, "Wanted to see where y'all was from. Figured if nice folk like y'all were from there, maybe there'd be other nice folk. Might even find someone who wanted to.. who needed.. Folk here are m-mean 'n I ain't wanted by nobody h-here…"

When Buck's whispers petered out and ended with another sob as he once again buried his face in Ezra's shoulder, the tracker and gambler exchanged serious looks. Both were familiar with the signs of abuse and neglect, and this boy had them in spades. Underneath the bruises and dirt, he was a handsome child though, with expressive blue eyes and thick dark hair. Cuddling the child closer, Ezra grimaced at the thought of the dirt and snot being spread over his shoulder, not to mention any livestock that may scurry from his new friend. Vin smirked when he saw the look, knowing exactly what his fastidious brother was thinking.

Entering the bathhouse, Ezra pried Buck off himself and set the child down on the bench next to where the Texan had painfully lowered himself. Buck scooted up close to Vin and peered around the bath house to determine if any locals were in there, but the place was quiet. Ezra quickly entered negotiations exercising his somewhat rusty Chinese in combination with Mr Ling's broken English and soon had three steaming tubs lined up, two full size and one half. Helping Vin remove his clothing whilst shielding his naked form from Buck's eyes, the gambler nodded approvingly as Mr Ling shuffled in to pour a small container of pungent, ground herbs into the tub for Vin. The smells were very pleasant and the tracker murmured appreciatively at both the heat and the smell as Ezra helped lower him into the tub.

Buck watched as Mr Ezra swiftly washed Mr Vin's hair and back, then gulped as the green eyes turned to him.

"Right then, young man, off with those clothes and into a tub with you too," encouraged the southerner, before turning to accept a small bundle of clothes from Mr Ling with a courtly bow. Knowing that the Ling's did laundry, he'd assumed they would have a stock of used clothing for sale and asked if they had any second-hand clothes that would fit the boy. What he was wearing was too small for him, had more holes than dirt and was being held together by dirt alone. Mrs Ling, who had come out to join her husband with her baby strapped to her back, had nodded eagerly with a gentle smile as she hurried to a nearby cupboard.

Buck soon found himself luxuriating in his first hot bath in what felt like forever, with the gentle fingers of Mr Ezra washing his hair for him. Giggling as a bucket of water was sloshed over him to wash off the hair soap, he hunched forward so Mr Ezra could wash his back.

Vin watched as Ezra interacted with the boy he'd found, chuckling when the southerner was splashed in retaliation for a comment about potatoes being grown in the youngster's ears. Setting the washcloth on the side of the tub, having finished his own ablutions, Vin laid back content to soak up the heat and watch the show being put on by Ezra and Buck. His smile faded when Ezra turned to him and he saw the tears sparkling in the gambler's green eyes. Squinting through the steam, he studied the child and saw what had upset the tender-hearted gambler. The boy's arms, chest and back were covered in bruises to match his face and he had marks left by a belt or razor strop. Closing his eyes against the flood of memories the spindly, beaten boy brought back, Vin swore that he'd track down the one who hurt the innocent child and make them pay.

"Now then, young man, you know our names but we don't know yours, which seems a bit unfair," remarked the gambler as he scrubbed the ground in filth from the soles of Buck's feet, trying to avoid the few cuts and sores.

"M' name's Buck Wilmington. I used to live with my Ma over on Daisy Street with Ms Hazel and the girls, but then Ma d-died… I tried to be of use – I tried real hard - but I weren't no good and Ms Hazel said I had to go. I've always asked 'round to see if anyone had any jobs, but nobody's ever had anything for me. Guess all the other fellas in town got there first, 'cos I've seen them running jobs for folk. Alls I could get was the job at the livery, 'cos Pete said Rafe ran away. Last I seen Rafe he didn't look in no shape to run anywheres, but that's what Pete tells folk so I guess it's true. I like the animals at the livery, and the hay and everything, but Pete..." chattered Buck, happily making small waves on the surface of the water by gently slapping his hands down.

Looking up from his assessment of the second cleanly scrubbed sole, Ezra hid the rage burning within him and asked casually, "What about Pete, Buck? Is he the one responsible for all the bruises on your person?"

Nodding shamefacedly, Buck concentrated on the soapy washcloth he'd picked up, squishing it to make the soap froth. Finally, he mumbled, "Pete says I'm lazy and good for nothing. Says I ain't nothing more than a bastard son of a whore and won't amount to nothing. Says he can do what he likes to me 'cos no-one'll care 'bout a orphan with no breeding." Stopping for a moment, Buck peered up at Ezra from beneath the tangle of wet hair that tumbled over his eyes. Deciding he could trust the green-eyed man, he blurted, "Pete tries to do things to me sometimes. He gets this look. Same look as I's seen on men who come to visit Ma and the other girls. I don't like that look, Mr Ezra, so I run and hide when I see it. I ain't lazy. I just don't like getting beat on and I don't like the things he tries to do. So I hide sometimes. But I earn my keep. I ain't lazy, Mr Ezra. Honest. An.. And I try to be good."

Ezra closed his eyes and clenched his hands tightly on the rim of the bathtub. The urge to find Pete and beat him until he bled and then string him by his balls from the nearest rafter, rose like a tsunami in the man and he fought to contain his anger. Buck had seen quite enough anger and violence in his young life and didn't need to witness any from him. Opening his eyes and blowing out his breath, he chanced a glance at Vin to see the younger man lying with tears rolling down his face. Lord, this was bringing up all kinds of horrors for him too.

"Guess Pete's right, 'cos ain't no-one in town said nothin' 'bout it when they see Pete hitting me or hear him cussin' me out. Not even none of the girls, or Ms Hazel, or Cookie. When I seen you and Mr Vin in the livery and you were being so nice to him, I thought maybe if I could skip some meals and save some money and go where you live, then the folk would be kind like you. Maybe I could find someone who'd let me live in their house with them, where it's warm and safe, like it used to be with Ma. Someone who could cook like Cookie and would let me have the scraps from the table with maybe a little extra on a Sunday iffun I'm good all week. Someone who wouldn't mind where I come from and wouldn't hurt me or call me names and would maybe even like to have me around." Buck paused in his wistful wishing and then seemed to realise that he'd forgotten something importantly, saying urgently, "I'd work hard for them. I'm always polite and 'spectful and try to smile and be happy, just like Ma taught me to be. Do you think there's anyone like that where you come from, Mr Ezra?"

Clearing his throat of the seemingly enormous lump that had found its way there after hearing Buck's woeful tale and pitiful plea for the mere basics that all children should have, Ezra looked down at the hopeful eyes of the little waif and said firmly, "I'm sure there is, Buck, and we'll help you find them. Now, you sit in the tub there and finish washing anywhere I missed. I'll just hurry along with my own ablutions and then we can go and see about getting some refreshment."

Unable to believe his luck, Buck splashed a little from sheer exuberance and then set about the task set to him.

Laying a hand on Vin's damp hair, Ezra waited until the pained blue eyes opened and fixed on him before whispering, "It will be alright, Vin. We'll make sure of it."

Nodding firmly, the tracker wiped his hands over his face to wash away his tears and smiled up at his brother.

Washing more quickly than he would have normally, Ezra was out, shaved and dressed in record time. Hustling Vin out of the cooling water, he left him to dry off and dress after applying a generous amount of the muscle balm. The Texan was now more mobile from the heat of the water and the liniment that Ezra had applied to his back, so he made short work of getting himself ready. Then Buck was hauled from the water and dried off, before being dressed in the new – for him – clothes, which he pulled on with a humbling amount of awe and pride. Deciding that a stop at the general store was needed to get the boy a pair of boots and a few other essentials, Ezra paid the Lings for the baths, herbs and clothes, returning their bows with a courtly bow of his own. Swooping down to lift the child back into his arms, Ezra smiled wistfully as Buck snuggled into him happily, remembering other children who'd once done the same.

The trip to the General Store resulted in a pair of sturdy second-hand boots for Buck; a complete change of clothes right down to socks and drawers for the child; an unexpected find of another warm, thick flannel undershirt just the right size for the thin-blooded Texan; new colourful bandanas for both Vin and Buck; a thick new blanket for Buck to bed down in; a new book that Ezra had been trying to find; and of course a bag full of hard candy for all of them to share after dinner. Smiling indulgently at the twin beaming grins of childish delight lighting up both Vin and Buck's faces, Ezra had handed over the money for the goods, ignoring the snide whispers of the locals in the store and the storeowner. Tucking the parcel with the spare clothes, book, and blanket in it under his arm and tucking the candy into one of Vin's capacious pockets, Ezra held out a hand which Vin jokingly took, only to assume a hurt air when Ezra rolled his eyes and said he'd meant the gesture for Buck. Buck had chortled merrily and taken the relinquished hand, before grabbing hold of Vin's hand too with a shy smile at the tracker. The three strolled out of the store, leaving the gossipers behind in a storm of whispers.

Next stop was Flo's Place, which turned out to be a restaurant not unlike the one in Four Corners, but with less friendly servers. At one point, Ezra thought that the formidable owner of the eatery was going to throw them out when the corpulent old battle-axe caught sight of Buck. But the glower levelled at her by Vin, as well as the less than subtle display of their sidearms convinced her to just feed them, take their money and get them out. Vin had sidled along the wall and opened the door to the kitchen a crack to make sure that nothing but food made its way onto their plates. When the cook looked up at him, he'd nodded affably and asked if he could get some biscuits with their order. Following the server back to the table, on the pretence of carrying the biscuits, Vin sat and started to plough through his food like a man on the brink of starvation. Buck watched with eyes rounded by astonishment as Vin inhaled a forkful of food that would have choked an ordinary man. Looking down at his own plate, he leaned in and sniffed hard before picking up his cutlery. Being sure to remember the table manners his Ma taught him, he savoured every morsel and made sure to thank Mr Ezra at the end of the meal. When three large slices of blueberry pie with cream materialised on the table, again supervised by the vigilant tracker, Buck was sure he was asleep in the hayloft and dreaming. That being the case, he never wanted to wake up.

Emerging from the restaurant, full to the brim and pleasantly lethargic, Buck found himself being carried by Ezra again. Draped across the broad shoulder, the child felt safe enough to fall soundly asleep for the first time in a long while.

"Best go 'n wire big brother 'fore that vein in his head busts wide open."

"Indeed. Why don't you wire Mrs Wells whilst you're at it and tell her about our young charge? The old crone is getting on in years and Miss Casey is likely to marry our young Sheriff sooner rather than later. Mr Dunne won't want to be all the way out to the Wells homestead when all the action is in town, hence his young bride will move into town and Mrs Wells will be on her own. A strapping young lad such as Buck would be an immense help about the place, helping with the chores and such, don't you think?"

A slow grin made its way to Vin's face as he listened, then nodded. "There ain't but the two bedrooms at Nettie's but Buck could bed down in the corner o' the front room least 'til we built on a new room fer him."

Hoisting the dead weight on his shoulder into a less precarious position, Ezra smoothed his hand soothingly over Buck's back as the boy stirred a little. Once he was convinced that Buck was fast asleep again, he continued, "Just so. And Buck would certainly benefit from Mrs Wells' delectable cooking and the wholesome air around the homestead. She wouldn't assign him any tasks that would prove too much for a growing frame and would raise him with a firm hand, without the need of a switch. Why, the old harridan manages to keep you, Mr Dunne and even the intractable Mr Larabee in line with a twitch of her fearsome eyebrow. She'd ensure that he attended the town school, because she values a basic education. Most likely I could find a few dollars here and there to help out with any costs for books or clothes as he grew. You already help her by providing her with fresh meat, but we could both take the boy under our wings to educate him on our specialties."

A frown of doubt wrinkled Vin's brow as he drawled, "Don't think Nettie'd take kindly ter ya teaching him cards, Ez."

Waving the objection away nonchalantly, Ezra said airily, "Everyone should know how to play cards competently or they'll be taken advantage of by people like my mother."

Nodding at the logic, Vin scratched at his chin and stopped in front of the telegraph office. "Reckon so. Best of all though, Nettie'd love the boy and treat him like her own. Don't reckon she'll care 'bout his background, neither."

"As she's accepted me into her home on occasion, despite knowing me to be a cheat and a liar and having met my mother, I don't suppose she will."

"Aw Ez, ya know she don't think that of ya now…"

"I know, Vin. Mrs Wells and I have agreed to appear on the outs whilst being quite fond of each other in secret. It protects her reputation as being a gruff, no-nonsense sort and mine as a…"

Cutting him off, Vin cried, "A low down, no-good, cheatin', lyin', fork-tongued fancy pants."

Both dissolved into quiet laughter at Vin's earthy character assassination.

Having sent their missives to Chris and Nettie, the friends made their way back to the livery quickly, since night had lowered and the increased number of inhabitants became rowdier. Vin went to check on the horses, as Ezra carefully climbed the ladder to the hayloft, dismayed to see multiple strange bundles of belongings that indicated they would be sharing the loft with untold others. Sitting near their bedrolls, careful not to jolt his passenger, Ezra leaned against the wall and waited for Vin to join him. Buck's moist warm breath ghosted across his throat as the child slumbered, occasionally emitting soft snores and making Ezra chuckle as the small hand clutching his lapel opened and closed.

Even with the liniment, Vin was still in pain which made his own ascent to the loft slow and careful, knowing a slip of the foot would send his fractious back into spasm. He'd left the horses happily smacking their lips over their nightly peppermints and tied the stall door securely against Chaucer's shenanigans. Clambering over the hay to where Ezra and he had left their gear, he frowned at the sight of other such bundles of gear. Resigning himself to be woken by drunken cowboys at various times of the night, he nodded to Ezra and grunted as he bent to retrieve the bundle from the store that Ezra had dropped next to his bedroll. Removing the new blanket and shaking it out, he spread it over the hay with room on either side for his and Ezra's blankets.

Ezra struggled to his knees and shuffled over to the blanket to carefully lay down the sleeping child, who whimpered fretfully at the loss of warmth and security. Quickly tucking the blankets around Buck, Ezra groaned at the stiffness in his back and knees when he struggled to his feet and retrieved Vin's bedroll and then his own, spreading one each out on either side of the child. Making sure that Vin was sleeping on the side that would provide a wall at his head and back, he then started piling up hay to create a barrier between himself and anyone foolish enough to try and bed down beside him. Sitting on his blankets, he pulled out his flask and downed a deep draft of the nectar within before offering it to the tracker who was looking up with bright-eyed, hopeful interest. Whilst Vin consumed more than a mouthful of Kentucky bourbon, Ezra removed his jacket and placed it neatly folded where he could use it as a pillow, then removed his sidearm and shoulder holster, being careful to place them where they would be easily accessible. He left the hideaway rig in place, knowing it paid to have it ready when strangers were about in a strange town. Turning to reclaim his flask, he tucked it away and then wriggled down into his blankets and made himself as comfortable as circumstances would allow.

Belly warmed, Vin had burrowed down into his own blankets trying to escape the chill breezes that whistled through the gaps in the rough-hewn wood walls. Pulling his blankets, including a real soft wool one that Ezra had gifted him with not long ago, up over his head Vin peered through the gloom and shivered. Turning over, he pulled the hay behind him up so it piled against his back as a windbreak, then rolled back and tried to snuggle down again. Sighing sadly when he felt another draught blow down his neck, he resigned himself to a cold, sleepless night.

Briefly turning on his side to check on his charge, Ezra chuckled when he saw that both Buck and Vin had turned on their sides facing him and buried themselves in blankets and, in Vin's case, partially in hay. Seeing the shuddering of both and feeling cold in his own bedroll, he realised that the blankets weren't going to be sufficient individually. Buck was malnourished and seemed to feel the cold more intensely as a result, despite the new clothes and thick new blanket, which made Ezra's heart hurt when he thought of how cold the boy must have been prior to their arrival.

Throwing back his covers, Ezra gently pushed Buck towards Vin's chest, caressing the waif's brow when he stirred until he settled. Scooting himself and his bedroll closer to the others, he quickly untucked Vin's blanket from where it had been wedged under the man and pulled it over Buck and his own exposed lower body. Then he threw his three warm, woollen blankets over all three of them, leaning over to tuck them in on the other side of Vin as well as tucking them under on his side. Sliding his Remington back under his 'pillow', he lay down on his side and sighed gustily.

"Thanks, Ez."

Smiling at the relief he heard in his friend's voice, Ezra patted the tracker's shoulder then delicately brushed the hair out of Buck's eyes. Making a note to have the boy's hair cut when they got back to Four Corners, he yelped quietly when he felt Vin's icy hand burrow under his neck.

Grinning cheekily, but not removing his hand from the warm spot he'd found, Vin chirped, "Sorry, Ez. Ma hand just sort o' slipped."

Grunting, Ezra just pulled Buck into his arms and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep before the revellers returned and woke them all.

Finished… maybe.


End file.
